


Intermission

by stereosleeper



Category: Redwall
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-01
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 21:44:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereosleeper/pseuds/stereosleeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Against all odds, Martin gets a chance to weave the strands of fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intermission

PROLOGUE

What he knew first was that everything was blurred. There was no before or now, no past or present. Nothing had definite shape, sound, or feeling. One moment he suddenly just was, and his eyes were open and he was waiting.

YOU HAVE ONE CHANCE.

The voice - or at least that was all it could be named - came like thunder, great and terrible, filling every corner of his awareness. But it did not hurt him, nor did it intimidate him. It simply was, and he could not ignore it.

A chance? Martin thought, staring straight ahead at absolutely nothing. He floated in colourless space, mind sleepy and blank. A chance for what?

A CHANCE TO EASE YOUR OWN SUFFERING, AND ALLOW YOURSELF THE PEACE YOU BRING TO OTHERS.

Suffering? Others? (As he struggled to remember, the memories came back slowly, or simply made themselves present to him, quietly, always patiently waiting until his calling.) He was happy, wasn't he? There was a memory of green and stones and water. Mossflower. A ship. A castle. Ah – Tsarmina! He had just -!

NO. FURTHER.

Here it was harder. Martin closed his eyes but that did nothing, he still saw or didn't-see what he had seen or hadn't-seen before. The memories continued to come. Before Mossflower, there was… cold. Not just in the landscape but in his heart. Moving, constantly moving. The scenery flashed by in his mind.

YES. REMEMBER!

And he did. Again the memories were suddenly there, and he accepted them and their corresponding emotions, because they had always been his. He was whole - or at least chipped and battered but in one piece – again. He was Martin the Warrior. He remembered: the Northern Tribe. His father. Slave lines, then Marshank. Felldoh, Brome, Rose. Rose. Rose. Noonvale. Death - and here it hurt again, a gentle gray sadness. He could not go on, but he had, somehow. And that led to Mossflower.

But that was many winters ago. So -

Was he dead? The last thing he remembered – really, really remembered, in a life that was outside of wherever or whenever he was now – was fighting the crazed wildcat queen, watching as she slipped into madness, then fell into his own stupor. He remembered speaking to Boar the Fighter as well, leaning against majestic gates stretching forever, shaking his great silver head. Had he… failed?

The voice came again, strong and awakening. NO. YOUR PHYSICAL BODY LIVES IN ITS PROPER TIME. HOWEVER, WE HAVE GIVEN YOU A CHANCE TO EASE THE SORROW. WE SHALL TAKE YOU TO ANOTHER TIME DIVERGING OF THE PAST, BUT A FAMILIAR PLACE. YOU HAVE ONE CHANCE.

The voice was no longer just in his head, but all around him, filling up every blank molecule. Desperately, Martin thought to it, Another time?

YES. ONE CHANCE TO DO RIGHT, GIVEN YOU DO NOT ALTER THE CURRENT STATE OF THINGS IN THIS TIME. THIS IS FOR YOU. DO WELL. IF YOU FAIL, YOU WILL RETURN AND FORGET, BUT YOU WILL HAVE CREATED A UNIVERSE OF CONFUSION.

I don't understand! He cried.

YOU WILL. WAKE UP.

And Martin awoke.

PART ONE

Hot, burning white.

"Oh," said somebeast. "Oh, good. Thank the fates." The voice rose, much louder than it needed to be. "Everybeast! HE'S AWAKE!"

Then there was more noise, and movement.

Martin groaned and turned his head to the side, trying to erase the blinding dot from his vision, but all it did was move it to the side. It was hot, and sharply uncomfortable. Every part of him screamed, his arms ached, and something was pounding in his head. Overall, this was rather familiar.

YOU MUST NOT ALTER CURRENT TIME!

He remembered the colourless space, and the voice. But how did he remember that? It was not a place or time, just a memory of a feeling, but he remembered. "Okay, okay, I heard you," Martin grunted in a broken voice, irritated, becoming more awake. Like he couldn't NOT hear the voice-being, since even now it filled every corner of his conscious. But it was slowly pulling away, leaving behind an opening, stretching awareness. His fuzzy brain began to process more. There was… a breeze, and lots of clatter. Dust blew against his face, made his whiskers twitch.

"Did you say something? Thank goodness you're awake, Martin. Hey, hey, come now - you had us worried. Rose wouldn't even sleep, you know, now let's get you up –"

Martin opened his eyes.

The large blinding dot was the sun, stabbing itself into his eyes. He squinted until the pain abated. Something was off, because something was familiar. It was more than that – it was a sense of déjà vu so strong he was almost immobilized by it. He fought off that feeling and opened his senses. Above the heat of the sun was the sea breeze, the same unmistakable odor of salt and water and sand of his childhood that had never left him. There was also that familiar voice, and the feeling that he'd been and done this before. Actually, he knew he had.

That was countless seasons ago…

Still there, the voice said, "Disoriented? It'll pass, mate. Here, some water…"

Then there was a paw in his face, holding a scallop shell chilled with water. He raised an arm to grasp it gingerly. Squinting, Martin stared at it blearily before looking up at the speaker.

And felt like somebeast had punched in him in the gut. It was a face he'd never forget.

"Brome?" he asked uncertainly. Why… why was Brome even speaking to him? And why was Brome here, in Mossflower? (But this isn't new. He knows where he is, and it's not Mossflower, he thinks slowly.)

He looked around, and yes, there it was. This was Fort Marshank, overtaken by battle and sand. Creatures crawled all over the place, tending to the wounded or dead. Half-walls, destroyed weapons, piles of unshaped rocks, and other equipment littered the area, and the once mighty fort itself was already falling into ruin. The effect of the bloody battle (don't think, don't think about it) was twisted and wrong in the bright midday sun. Martin looked down on himself to see he was lying on a long slab of rock, beside a demolished wall that had once offered shade, but the sun was too high now.

"Yep," said Brome (but it couldn't be, couldn't be), relieved and oddly cheerful. "Nice to see you again, mate! Glad you all made it back."

Made it back? What? "Brome," Martin said, suddenly unbelievably tired. Even saying the younger mouse's name was trying. Sitting up, he took a sip of the shade-cooled water, then noticed his arms. They were raw and dirty with dust, covered in scabs beneath the fur, and the scars of his long-worn shackles were still apparent. They had faded, though, hadn't they? And the claw wounds inflicted by Tsarmina were gone, as if never there.

And so Martin understood. This was the only thing that made sense.

He looked up at Brome, fearful. "This is a dream, isn't it?" The bustle of activity around him was completely lost as he dreaded the answer.

Brome cocked his head to the side, and his whiskers twitched. "I daresay the fall of Marshank has been a dream for many, but thanks to you it is reality. You did it! Well, you and everybeast else. I helped too, you know!"

Eh? Martin remembered the voice: ANOTHER TIME DIVERGING OF THE PAST. This was either an incredibly real dream, or a dreamed-of reality. However time didn't merely wheel itself back and leave his memories intact for his convenience, so. He put his head in his paws and breathed in deeply. Brome had spoken of Rose. An old sadness wracked him; so she was alive again in yet another dream. Yet another bittersweet taste in his mouth.

Brome was clearly worried now. He leaned over, offering some shade from the burning sun. "Martin? Do you hurt elsewhere? I thought we'd gotten to you in time - oh, you haven't hit your head, have you?"

Hit his head? Martin laughed low, even though it wasn't funny, and looked back up. "No. Not me."

The younger mouse seemed more off-put. Brome leaned back and fussed with the herbs, stuffing them roughly into their sacks, but he was concerned with Martin. "Are you really alright? You're acting strange. Here, I'll get Rose now, she's been fussing over you…" he got up.

As he left, other creatures hastily came round to Martin's spot. Otters, squirrels, fieldmice… both enslaved creatures now free and impromptu warriors that once led peaceful lives. All because of Marshank, and… Badrang. An old hatred bubbled in Martin's chest. All these creatures crowding around, going on about Badrang and victory and Martin wanted none of it. He's had dreams just like this before. Usually, at this point, somebeast would come by to tell him about Rose, and how they were so sorry. Martin was halfway expecting this to happen now, almost terrified of it. But she wasn't, right? This was a 'happy' dream. So instead he reached for where he knew his sword would be, rusted and worn but new to him once again. It hadn't been mended yet, of course, and in the dream he wasn't used to it. He smiled at the creatures, silently casting off their chatter while ignoring his own aches. Ah well. Nothing to do now but go along with all of it.

He stood up, taking care not to disrupt his bindings. He politely refused the offer to help him walk because he always could do that just fine, thanks. If there was one thing he'd done a lot in his life, other than grieve and regret, it was walk. So he did.

Everything really was the same as he remembered, except so much more real. Unlike the dreams he could clearly feel the grit of sand and feel the burn of the middle-summer sun, see the incomplete bricks he'd been forced to shape into walls. It was exactly as if he had been picked up and placed back in time, except – except Rose wasn't dead. But that just couldn't be. The voice was a product of the dream, that was all. Martin breathed in deeper, walking along to wherever they were leading him. Rose wasn't dead. Only in dreams could he feel the shame, remorse, and anger dissipate.

-And there she was, running up to him with a wide smile and a bandage around her head. This was a new variation, but the stop of his heart was always the same. Beasts cleared the way for her as she approached, Brome trailing behind her slowly. They were both smiling, dream-beings so clueless of what Martin had really done (nothing, nothing at all, you let her die), that he was momentarily disgusted and only stared dumbly at them. Rose came to him and grasped his paw nonetheless. The proximity was shocking. It had been so long since he'd heard her voice…

"Finally, Mister Sleepywhiskers! It's been near a whole day. Everybeast's getting ready to move to Noonvale, or tending to the injured. Minimal casualties, can you believe it? Thanks to Brome, he made it back alright long before we did! He's a healer now… not too bad at it…"

He blinked out of his daze. This, Martin already knew. He didn't bother faking looking surprised like he knew he should, not when Rose's paw was burning into his own. He just nodded. Thinking past Rose and that shocking matter all in itself, there was the whole repetition of the past to go through. The dreams, whether happy or sad, always followed the same pattern. At some point during the day, they'd tell him about Felldoh, and that scar ached too.

"But… not everyone survived…" Brome looked at him heavily. He really looked so young. Martin felt incredibly old, even in this young dream-body. "Felldoh. He - he went down so bravely. Took down dozens of them at once, and –"

"Died laughing," Martin mumbled, looking anywhere but to him. The sun shone down on the clearing battlefield. Two caravans were settled close by, being attended to by beasts loading in the injured. Some were walking through the open forsaken castle slowly. This scene had never been omitted from his memories, either. The aftermath of death is the simplest, cruelest pain.

"Er – yes – did you already know?" Brome frowned. "Or I suppose… Warriors just know these things."

This stung a little bit. He hadn't meant for it to slip out, but it wasn't Brome's place to assume things of the bloodshed he'd caused, or Felldoh's true character. He knew how Brome once thought warriors and bloodthirsty beasts were one and the same, worshipping aside. "No. If I knew Felldoh at all, that is how I'd have expected him to die. How he'd want to die."

Rose released his paw and looked at him strangely along with her brother. "You don't sound very upset. He was our friend-"

What was up with this dream? Everything was happy, but it tasted like bitterness on Martin's tongue.

He turned around and walked back to Marshank, leaving behind a few confused beasts. "He's been acting strange, maybe hit his head -" he heard Brome explain, but he didn't care. He didn't think he could handle this dream. Then the voice came again.

NOT A DREAM. YOU HAVE WOKEN UP. THIS IS A CHANCE! YOU ARE ALREADY RUINING IT!

But of course it's a dream. How else do I know Gonff, Mother Abbess, Bella, and the others? They are from a time after this, I could not possibly know them and be here. It's a dream.

NO. THIS IS A NEW REALITY. YOU WOKE UP WHEN YOU FELL ASLEEP. LISTEN -

Something filtered in his head, and like in the floating, blurred dark, Martin just knew. And understood. This wasn't a dream. This was real. He was repeating the past, but Rose had never died. Yet he could remember everything after it – Gonff imprisoned with him in Kotir, the journey to Salamandastron and finding Timballisto, the struggle with Tsarmina, and – and nothing after that.

BECAUSE THIS IS THEN, BUT THIS IS ALSO NOW. YOUR BODY IN NORMAL, PRESENT TIME IS RESTING. WHILE YOU SLEEP, YOU ARE IN ANOTHER TIME – HERE. ALSO THE PRESENT. BUT ALSO THE PAST. YOU MUST LEAVE THE VERY INSTANT YOU LEFT BACK THEN. YOU CANNOT CHANGE HISTORY. THIS IS WHY YOUR MEMORIES ARE INTACT.

But Rose is alive, Martin thought, trudging through the ruins. His footpaws did not halt their trek through the hot sand, and noise filtered to him from afar. And I am not wrapped in sorrow and shame. That's a change in history, right there.

YES. THIS IS YOUR CHANCE. BUT YOU CANNOT –

Alter time, yes, got it, Martin thought dully. How ridiculous. He was so… perturbed. What was up with these voices, anyway? Was he touched in the head? He knew beasts who mumbled to invisible audiences were never quite 'right'.

WE ARE THE CREATURES OF THE FOREST. HOW YOU LEAVE IS UP TO YOU. SAVE FOR HER LIFE, YOU CANNOT LEAVE ANYTHING ELSE DIFFERENTLY. IN *THIS* TIME, MOSSFLOWER NEEDS YOU STILL. IN *THIS* TIME, VERDAUGA GREENEYES STILL RULES. ACT WISELY. THIS IS YOUR CHANCE, MARTIN THE WARRIOR.

And somehow this made sense, even though he'd never heard the name Redwall before, in both the present time or this new time. Martin came to a full stop as realization and acceptance hit him. Yes. Another chance. But this time, he knew.

PART TWO

He understood, but only to an extent. He still hadn't wrapped his head around the idea of the possibilities – because he'd simply wanted this for so long, and now it was his. Martin had the seasons of wisdom and sorrow imprinted in his brain, the harsh realities of winters and jail cells wide-awake behind a body that had never even glimpsed a bat. But (and this was the weirder part) because this wasn't a dream, he could act upon his experience. He felt – and this was the only word for it – raw. Strangely powerful, almost, because he knew so much, knew things twice over. Martin had to force himself to react rashly, as his younger self had done, and that was. Well. Rather bizarre. He wondered as well – would he have to reenact the whole past, or just until his leaving?

Brome kept sneaking him odd glances as he walked along the injured's caravan, pulled by a gruff but joyous Rowanoak. Rose was behind them, laughing at Grumm and Pallum. His dear friends, once so faraway, were now right beside him. It was nice to talk to them again. But if Brome asked if he was alright one more time, Martin would pick him up and throw him into the sea. It wasn't too annoying in itself, since he knew he was acting oddly, but it attracted the attention of everybeast else. Now they all thought he had gone off his rocker, because he didn't talk much and kept staring around. What a way to start off this second chance!

Behind them, Pallum laughed loudly and trotted up quickly to catch up to Martin and Brome. He threw a paw around Martin's shoulders. "Well well well," the hedgehog grinned. "War hero, heh? Always knew you had it in you! Wasn't scared at all, with you leading us."

Martin laughed and threw a paw around him as well. "I know, matey, that's why you were shaking so hard your teeth were chattering!"

Pallum sniffed. "From excitement!"

"Of course," Martin offered graciously, a grin at his lips. "Well, personally, I was shaking in my boots."

"You're not wearing boots," Brome pointed out objectively.

"My metaphorical boots." Martin winked. "I always keep a pair at paw, in case I need to be scared." Pallum laughed.

Rose and Grumm sneaked through until they were walking in a five-creature line alongside the caravan, dodging the trees and boulders as they approached the valley. The sun was sinking, and everything was golden.

"There's going to be a wonderful feast," Rose sighed. "To honour our victory, and losses as well."

"You become stronger for your pain," Martin said, thinking distantly of the mourning but rebuilding Noonvale he'd left behind. They'd be alright, even more so now that Rose still lived.

"Yes," Rose blinked and smiled. "Yes, I suppose so." She said nothing more, and they walked in silence.

There was a whoop of joy in front, and slowly the creatures before them started chanting, yelling, rejoicing. They had reached Noonvale. Badrang the Tyrant was dead, and his victims avenged. A new life had begun.

PART THREE

"Thank you," Aryah murmured.

Martin turned to her slowly, blocking out the sounds of singing and merrymaking around the fire. They had brought the tables outside and the festivities, as well as the food, showed no signs of slowing despite the approaching night. The Rambling Rosehip players were hard at work with silly acts and outrageous displays of skill, and the whole of Noonvale was entranced. Fireflies glittered nearby, and treetops swung slowly in the evening breeze.

"For what," he asked, though Martin was sure he knew what. It made his stomach curl.

Aryah looked at him gravely while her husband's attention was elsewhere. "For bringing her back safely."

But I didn't. She simply lived. Martin sighed but didn't say that – how could he explain that, time-leap aside, he didn't know how Rose survived, himself? So he said, "Don't thank me."

Rose's mother frowned at him, so he smiled back. "Your daughter can very well take care of herself." He stirred some leek soup around his bowl and pretended to be wholly engrossed in the juggling act the next table over.

On his other side, Rose laughed politely at something a male mouse had said. In another impossible time, Martin would have been confused and concerned, tugging on his new tunic and freshly washed fur. Now, however, he simply met the mouse's lingering glances with disinterest.

He hadn't played this game since Gonff and Columbine's courtship. He laughed, remembering Columbine's stunned features as she was led to believe that Gonff had snipped off her whiskers. They hadn't met in this time yet, but he couldn't wait. Couldn't wait to introduce Rose to Gonff and Columbine and everybeast. For that, he would do anything. He would not lose this chance.

Rose turned to him, eyebrow raised. A breeze caught her headfur gracefully. "It's not nice to laugh at Kastern for dropping the juggling balls, good sir."

Martin smiled at her. "My apologies, ma'am. I was actually laughing at the hilarious commentary of our friend here."

The other mouse, a Noonvale native whose name Martin hadn't caught, frowned. "I wasn't making a joke. I was telling Laterose about the new tree we're planning to cut down."

"More cutting down trees? How bloodthirsty. What did they do to you?"

Grumm chuckled faintly, then pulled his face into a mock frown. "Oi think they'm trees be vury inter'stin, burr aye," he said solemnly. Pallum looked back and forth between Martin, Rose, and the other mouse, fighting back his giggles. The mouse looked rather irritated, clearly sensing he was being made fun of. Rose jostled Martin with her elbow, but Martin ignored it and winked at the mouse.

The celebratory and remembrance feast went on well into the night, but at some point Urran and Aryah Voh had disappeared to mingle with the other tables, with a nod to Martin and a smile to Rose. Abruptly almost everything was amusing to Martin, like how the mouse from earlier had tried to impress Rose, or how nobeast knew he had lived double his age and still accepted the treatment of a dibbun, or how Ballaw was so stuffed and sluggish with food and drink that he had mistaken a cream tart for a hat.

"I think you need some sleep," Rose looked at him with concern. "You're brooding one moment and laughing the next! You haven't been sneaking the wine, have you?"

Martin snorted with laughter, shaking his head. "I thought maids liked the broody, silent type?"

She rolled her eyes. "Only in fanciful literature. They're mistaken as grouches here in the real world." She ruffled his headfur. "Mr. Grouch. You need sleep."

The center of Noonvale had been decorated with coloured lamps and flowers, casting the night into a wash of flickering amber and blue. In the middle of the circle, creatures danced and laughed around the fire, and dibbuns ran through and under the tables, gleeful at the prospect of staying up late and playing their games. Everything was alive. Even the light flickering in Rose's eyes and the shadow under her lips was beautiful.

"I would regret not staying awake," he told her seriously. "You must treasure everything."

Rose blinked, and took his paw again. "…Well, yes. But you'll fall asleep in your soup if I don't show you your room."

Martin watched Pallum and Grumm dance and laugh a little too loudly in the ring. Grumm's dancing had always been, er, entertaining. It was quite interesting to watch. Martin smiled as he watched them. "I know where my room is."

There was a huff, and he grinned when he turned to find Rose scowling at him. "Okay, now you're being difficult, Sir High and Mighty! Just 'cause you destroyed Fort Marshank once and for all and saved hundreds of beasts doesn't mean you can stay up past your bedtime!" she said, and tweaked his ear for good measure.

"Owowow! Okay, okay! I'll go to bed," Martin pouted with exaggeration. It was almost easy, fitting in again. And breathtaking, but, well, Rose always was. Slowly he got up and warned a giggling Pallum that he was retiring for the night, trying to avoid the spikes when Pallum turned too suddenly. Grumm bid them a breathless goodnight, still laughing and dancing. Martin didn't care to bother any other creatures he knew that were still about. So he offered Rose his arm and she took it with mocking grace, and they strolled away from the firelight into the calm night. The bustling noise dimmed as they walked, and far away, a bird sang into the cool air.

But they didn't stop at Martin's lodgings. "I thought I was being sent to bed," Martin commented wryly.

Rose squeezed his arm and slowly led him over the valley, further into the silence of the trees. "I have decided that you shall accompany me on my walk."

"I see," Martin said with a low chuckle. "But I warn you, I'm terrible in the morning if I don't get my beauty sleep."

Rose leaned her head against Martin's shoulder. "Yes, I know how horrible you are in the morning."

He didn't have a response for that, so he just swallowed. This moment was so wonderful, so peaceful. And limited.

The thought closed up Martin's throat. He leaned his head against hers and continued to walk, the soft night dew flicking against his sandals. He had to leave once winter set in. But he could come back, right? The voice had promised him happiness.

"Martin?"

Martin hummed in reply, eyes casting out about the rolling grass and thick tree trunks they slowly walked by. Relishing the heat of Rose next to him. "What is it?"

Rose stopped and looked at him. She still held his paw, but her countenance was nervous – something she hardly ever was. Rose was always so splendidly bold and unafraid, unless it came to herself. Which meant -

"I. I'd like to tell you something."

She was standing closer now, almost illuminated in the light of the stars and moon shining through the foliage. Martin stroked her arm reassuringly. They smiled at each other, and immediately, Martin knew. This was what he had hoped for, but been afraid of. Now that he had no reason to fear, it was happening, and he could not drop his smile.

Rose leaned in closer.

PART FOUR

She was waiting for him, but Martin couldn't really make himself leave. The fire was too close, too hot, and the hammer heavy in his paw, but still he continued to pummel, fold, pummel, and fold.

She was waiting, but he didn't know what to tell her.

He turned the iron sheet over, slowly bringing it to shape. It would become a plaque to commemorate the destruction of Fort Marshank, and would be hung proudly in the dining hall. There was an abundance of metal in Marshank, and whatever wasn't already innocent in shape was melted down and birthed again. Martin had thought of Boar's miracle with his sword and had asked to apprentice at the blacksmith's, under a Noonvale otter. To the surprise of many, he did not mend his sword, or pursue any other weapon crafting. Noonvale needed no more bloodshed, and his sword needed Boar's touch anyway. So slowly he became accustomed to the arduous weight of the hammer, the sweltering heat of the fire, and the hard edge of the anvil.

But he was pushing for time. Rose was waiting.

With a sigh he hammered the sheet flat a final time, picked it up with tongs and dipped it into the cooling water, then picked up the chisel. The hiss and steam was extreme, but it did not even connect in Martin's mind. Autumn was approaching, and they were all waiting. He had not heard the voice for a while now, so he assumed he was doing alright, but what was he supposed to do from here?

Eventually he left the smithy with night at his heels. He waved back to a few creatures returning from dinner, strolling leisurely back to his room. Urran Voh had offered him a bigger one, but hadn't understood why Martin had refused the permanent lodging. Martin, as it turned out, was quite adept at surprising the creatures of Noonvale.

He wasn't the only surprising one - he entered his room to find it already occupied. Rose sat on his usually untouched bed, picking through a lengthy scroll Martin kept close by. She put it down when he opened the door.

"Won't your father be angry?" Martin asked. He picked up a towel from the set kept for baths and wiped his face.

Rose shook her head. "It's not my father I'm worried about, it's you. You missed dinner again."

Martin occupied himself by grabbing some clean garments for his bath later. "I wasn't hungry." Then, immediately aware of how surly he sounded, he turned to her and smiled. "The smith just – gives me purpose, I suppose. I can't pull myself away. I like what I'm doing now, it's a nice change - helping others without bloodshed for once."

Rose's smile appeared in response. "Oh, Martin. That's not - I mean, what you do is necessary. I'm just worried you're not eating, that's all."

Martin came to sit beside her on the bed. He actually fell asleep in the armchair beside it more often than in the bed itself, so it was a little foreign to him. He took her paw and leaned to kiss her ear softly. "I'll be alright." He could take much, much worse than a few missed meals. In truth, he simply didn't want to see the expecting glances directed their way, or the theories lurking behind still mouths.

She leaned into him, staring at nothing in particular. He wrapped a paw around her. She was waiting for him to propose, he knew. They all were. And with every passing day, they wondered why there was no news of marriage, or at least engagement. But how could he ask for her paw in marriage when he knew that come winter, he would be gone for many, many seasons? He had to explain, to tell her somehow, but…

Martin knew without a doubt that he was playing a dangerous game. He could not become too deeply rooted here - but he could not simply drift away either. He had to try as hard as he could to leave things in the same general state – save for the obvious – that he had left them in, in the other time. Marrying Rose and leaving behind a child would certainly not help his case.

Children… Martin sighed internally. There could be never be any children. The thought broke his heart.

"It's just…" Rose whispered, bringing him back. "You seem so distant sometimes. So much… older. I don't know what's wrong, but I hurt for you, even though you won't tell me." She studied him. "Is it Marshank?"

He closed his eyes. With another inner sigh, Martin turned buried his face into Rose's shoulder and breathed in. There was nothing worse he could bring himself to do to her than tell her the truth. He had to tell her something, anything, and soon -

Rose hummed happily and turned her head to kiss him. After a moment they rested their foreheads against one another's. Martin was overwhelmed with words he could not speak.

\- but not tonight.

"So what are you reading?" Rose asked with another smile.

PART FIVE

THE TIME APPROACHES. YOUR SILENCE IS AFFECTING THE OUTCOME.

You again, Martin thought. He twitched as the voice first entered his awareness, ignoring Brome's questioning glance. He pretended to be entranced in fishing – as absorbed as you can be while sitting by a slack line, anyway – and focused on the voice.

I know, but I simply haven't figured out what to tell everybeast yet.

DECIDE SOON. YOU WILL SEE EACH OTHER AGAIN, IF YOU DO RIGHT. BUT NOT FOR A VERY LONG TIME.

Martin closed his eyes. Yes. But that didn't answer how.

DECIDE SOON, it said. And it was gone.

Martin opened them again slowly, casting his fishing line a sad contemplative look. Brome interrupted his musings. "I'm getting rather hungry. Want to pack up soon?"

"Hmm. I've only caught one fish. Living near the water all my life, you'd think I'd be better at it."

Brome laughed.

When they got back to Noonvale, Martin immediately took the fish to the kitchens, then sought out Rose. It didn't take long to find her. The ruling family was strolling through the valley together, with Rose in between the two older mice, all smiling and serene. The way the sunlight illuminated them made Martin think twice about breaking this scene's spell, and he turned around – but Aryah called his name before he could escape out of sight. He turned around sheepishly as they approached.

"I saw you trying to get away, there," the Matriarch chuckled. Martin pulled some face to answer her, and she laughed and took his paw. Rose and Urran Voh greeted him with smiles, and he nodded back to them. The now four-creature long row continued to walk.

"So what brings you over? I feel I haven't spoken to you in so long, Martin. You're always out and about."

"The smithy keeps me busy," Martin answers. "And Barkjon is showing me some interesting scrolls."

Urran Voh grunted amiably. "Yes, he's been going through our library like mad. Never seen more of a fanatic for the written word, I haven't."

Martin would really have liked to take his paw back, but it would be rude to tug it away. He calmly followed the family as they wandered around, greeting creatures new and old. As usual, it was a beautiful summer's day in Noonvale, and even once grieving creatures were turned into smiling beasts. A soft wind trailed at their clothes and the scent of grass and woodlands hung in the air. There was soft laughter from the schoolhouse, and beasts of all kinds were out, going about their business. It was peaceful, it was wonderful.

Aryah again turned to him kindly. "Anything new? I thought you and Brome went off somewhere today."

"Oh. We went fishing, yes. …Well, mostly napping, but fishing too." Martin allowed. "I was actually thinking that I'd like to see Polleekin again."

Rose gasped. "Oh, Polleekin! Yes! She was so kind to us, and I completely forgot about her!" she turned to her father. "Oh, dad, we've got to go! Before winter comes, at least!"

Urran Voh's forehead wrinkled in thought, and for a moment Martin was reminded of the serious, unapologetic mouse Voh used to be, and perhaps still was. The father who'd glared at him and asked that he remove his sword. Gray lined his beard and a seriousness cast about his eyes. Martin had never been intimidated, though, and certainly wasn't now. Frankly, even if Rose and the whole valley came along, he still intended to speak to the gifted mole by himself. She may have the answers he needed.

"I could never stop you," Urran Voh said eventually, gravely, "and I know Martin will keep you safe." Rose laughed and kissed him on the cheek.

Martin dropped his paw from Aryah's and walked on silently.

PART SIX

It was three days of travel to get there, with the Waterlily otters maneuvering the streams, much walking, and some muscle in the form of Rowanoak and Martin in case this turned into another unplanned adventure. They met no trouble, though, and made it to Polleekin the mole's abode in good time. Pallum and Grumm came too, of course, delighted at the prospect of paying their dear friend a visit. The short journey there had been fun, with splashing contests and races and evening stories around the fire.

Polleekin's abode was how he remembered it, high up into the trees with walls of trunks and leaves, and a fallen log that served as a stairway. There was some chatter as they approached, Rose laughing with Grumm and Pallum speaking to Rowanoak and some of the otters. Martin knew Polleekin was already expecting them. Indeed, there was a creak and a well-placed door opened to reveal the smiling molewife, waiting before the stairs, still garbed in a bonnet and apron as they remembered her. The traveling creatures cheered and greeted her, or quickly made introductions. Polleekin was clearly glad for the company.

"Hurr, oi dearly wish oi 'as zum straw'bry cordial!" Grumm said as way of greeting. Martin, Rose, and Pallum all laughed, remembering how Polleekin had thrown scones to them upon their meeting. Polleekin shook a digging claw at them.

"Oi bain't throwen moi gudd beakers abowt, burr no!" Polleekin chuckled, ushering in everybeast. There was barely enough room inside for all of them to fit, but they managed somehow. Rowanoak's predicament was particularly funny, with her hunched back grazing the ceiling. Within moments mint tea and honeyed scones were procured, along with some cucumber sandwiches and small oatcakes, making a small but lovely brunch. Eventually, after all had their fill, most beasts slowly filtered out for some air and to allow others more room. Martin and Polleekin were left with Pallum, who was still keeping on top of the pastries, and Starwort, who enjoyed the tea immensely. Catching Polleekin's eye he stood silently and followed her to her sleeping room, drawing the dividing leaf-entwined curtain closed behind them. It was thick, and most noise was cut off.

"Oi says there'm be soimthing off abowt thoi," Polleekin said kindly, seating herself. Martin nodded and sat down in her stuffed armchair. She paused to think. "You'm knowen things even oi doan't."

"Yes," Martin said gravely, suddenly so tired. But he was grateful as well, that at last he could speak to somebeast about this. Polleekin always knew so much. He continued, "Have you ever felt that something was wrong? With the world itself, I mean, like things weren't as they were supposed to be?"

Polleekin immediately nodded, her thick digging claws clasped carefully in front of her. Despite her pinafore and cap, she looked every part of the all-knowing foreseer. "O burr aye. Not too long frum naow. Them's been… soimething wrong wi' thur fabric of toime."

Martin closed his eyes. "Yes. That is because I am here. I remember your prophecy. 'Great sorrow', you said, but there was no sorrow. My presence itself, and Rose's, was not supposed to happen."

Polleekin frowned. "But you'm be here. If it bain't sposed to 'appen, then it won't 'appen."

He opened his eyes. "Ah, yes. But that does not explain why I come from a time that did not happen, and now that Rose is alive, never will." He sighed deeper and searched his thoughts. "I am older than my own body. I know things and events that have not happened yet. I know beasts that have not even met me. I… have come back, you see, been given a second chance."

A smile crinkled at the molewife's eyes. She did not question the impossibility. "And thoi not 'appy?"

"Oh, no! Of course I am! Yet I must follow a path that does not exist yet. I must do exactly as I have before – in the other time that I am originally from, and I am not sure I can do that. I know I'll mess up. Plus I have to leave, and take with me a sadness that does not exist anymore. The leaving itself will be difficult enough."

"O, it does, burr aye. Thur sadness." Polleekin said softly, and leaned over to softly touch Martin's chest with the tip of a claw. "You'm feel it ev'ryday. That, in thoi time und this'n, thur sadness be there. Bain't thoi fault, hurr oh no, furr fate wuld allus foinds a way to make ee leave, no matter wot. But sadness be there, aye. Only 'is toime, you'm walk thur same path, but wi' a loighter weight. But you'm can do it."

Martin's eyes went wide. "You already know."

She still smiled, leaning back. "Hurr aye. Furr all'm roights thoi caused, und still 'ave yet to cause, thur fates allowed thoi a deeper 'appiness."

A small dam, blocking the river of hope, finally broke in Martin's heart. "But what will happen to the past – in my time?"

"Oi think it be overtaken by this toime, und thur two yoonivurses be one."

"And my memories?"

Polleekin shrugged. "Oi doan't know. We'm see."

Martin dropped his head. Even if it was for the worse, he did not want to forget what had truly happened. What he was still at fault for, even if that fault had been mended. "Yes. We shall see. But I still must find a way to leave."

A claw lifted Martin's chin. The mole smiled ever so kindly at him. "You'm figure it owt, oi knows it. Coom naow, Wurrior of Redwall. Thoi not want you'm friends to worry."

Martin nodded, and rose. He offered his arm to the molewife, then frowned as a thought struck him. "What is Redwall?"

The mole chuckled, took his arm, and slowly padded back into the kitchen.

They were to leave the next evening, to not spend too long away from Noonvale and worry everybeast, so that night there was much laughter and offerings of food and tales. Martin took his place between Grumm and Rose, smiling genuinely at the conversation. He still did not know how he was to set up his departure, but at the moment the predicament did not seem so grave. Not when the smiling faces lit the molewife's home, and his loved ones were so close.

PART SEVEN

And indeed the solution came.

There was no messenger of war or sudden tragedy or anything of the sort. Martin simply realized that he had been thinking too much into the future, and not the past. His past, in fact.

He had been simply reading in his room, carefully looking through the archaic parchments. He had been taught to read by his father, ages and ages ago. However, the tribe had had other things to worry about than reading material, and so Martin had very few opportunities to read. He hadn't really liked it anyway, preferring to scale the cliffs or swim through the icy waters with Timballisto when he was younger. But now the ink on the paper parchments jumped out at him, endless sentences entrancing him into the next. Before he knew it he had finished and was demanding Barkjon for more. Plays, journals, legends, he read it all. Poetry, more than anything, grabbed his interest. Something about the meter and rhyme of mere sentences reminded him of Rose's beautiful songs, and in his head he could always imagine her singing whatever time-forgotten verse he was reading. Sometimes, for the sillier poems, he heard Gonff's voice. Martin could not help but chuckle.

The thought of Gonff's voice led him to thinking of their journey to the fire mountain, and then the great badgerlord and swordsmith, Boar. Then he thought of his sword, and then his father.

His father.

It had been many seasons after Luke the Warrior had sailed off that Martin and his grandmother were taken by slavers. Back in the caves, Martin would wonder where his father was at that exact moment. No doubt bravely fighting hordes of evil rats, or sailing off hot on the trail of Vilu Daskar! Hatred, anger, and pride would fill him. Yes, his father would avenge his mother and fallen tribemice, come back, then bestow upon Martin the right to rule the Northern Tribe. He'd clutch the massive, eroded sword almost feverishly in his small paws. But the seasons lengthened and he was taken from the shores and bound to chains. When Windred finally died, leaving him anguished and world-weary, he realized his foolishness. He no longer stubbornly wished to rule their tribe, even if it was his birthright. That kind of thinking is what led to evil creatures like Badrang. And his father, like his loved grandmother, was only a mortal. He could die – could have already died, Martin clenched his eyes shut – at any time, like him, like every other beast in any universe.

And one day he would know his father's and his tribe's fate. One day. Not soon – though he would dearly like to - but eventually.

His eyes found the deadly heirloom, resting majestically upon a white cloth atop the bureau he never used. The blade was worn and chipped, but the golden handle and shining red pommel stone still glinted as bright as ever, even when scratched and dented. It reminded Martin of Home. Home: the Northern Caves, Noonvale, and, though he did not know it, Redwall.

Wiping the sudden moisture from his eyes, Martin quickly put away the scroll and left his room. He hurriedly left to find Rose, and Grumm and Pallum and anybeast he felt had a right to know. After all, winter was approaching.

It was dinnertime, and perhaps they had been by his room to take him with them, but Martin must have waved them off. He rushed into the dining hall with the urgency of new determination. Realization spurred his bones. He found his friends at the usual table, by the very end where the Patriarch and his family sat. They watched him approach and waved, and within moments Martin was seated by Brome, looking around at all the creatures gathered.

"If you were this hungry, why didn't you come down before?" Pallum asked with much amusement and acorn pie on his face.

"Because now I know."

"Know'n what, if oi may ask?" Grumm asked, in between drinking deeply from his cup.

Martin tapped his paws on the table. "My friends, I'm sorry to have kept you in the dark, but I've been troubled recently, and… is the crew of the Waterlily still about?"

"Oh, yes," Aryah said, slightly startled. "Over by the kitchens… leaving in a fortnight, they said… what in the world is wrong?"

They all looked at him strangely, but Martin just smiled, and was up again. "Nothing at all. I'm sorry to bother you…" and he was off to find the otters.

PART EIGHT.

"So lemme get this'un straight," Starwort said slowly. His tattooed paws came up to scratch his beard absentmindedly, for Martin had all his attention. "You want us ter pretend ter take ye to the Northlands, but actually drop ye off by Polleekin's?"

Martin nodded patiently. "Yes."

The otter frowned. "I like ye, Martin matey, but I gotta ask: why the secrecy 'n the lie?"

Martin drew breath. It would sound strange no matter which beast he explained it to, but Starwort deserved the truth, even if he didn't understand it. "Because the creatures of Noonvale must not follow me. If they thought I was merely off questing, my friends would come along. If they think I am off to discover my family's fate, they shall leave me be, thinking I deserve time alone."

Starwort's brow rose, but a small smile appeared on his gruff face. "Well jes' yore luck, matey, I gots a message from Polleekin 'erself. Says she's expectin' ye. I'm shore the wife won't say no." He leaned in closer, whispering conspiratorially despite their isolation. "This be one o' those majik vision things, innit?"

"Sort of," Martin chuckled, voice normal, patting Starwort on the back amiably. "Besides, I'll be back."

"Aye," Starwort agreed, and leaned off the grand sycamore. "Ye better, or else ye'd break little Rosie's heart!"

"I know. …But this is for the greater good."

Starwort whooped loudly, clapping Martin on the back with a strong paw. "I'd imagine so! S'not like yer not Martin the Warrior or anythin'!"

He wasn't exactly sure what that was supposed to mean, but Martin let it go. He just smiled, and looked somewhere beyond the gushing stream.

Winter was coming.

PART NINE

Rose took the news rather well, in that she didn't stomp her footpaws or scream like her countenance suggested that she'd dearly like to. She was mature and understanding, but Martin could tell she would like to go with him. He could not allow this, and gave no quarter. Urran took his side immediately, preferring that his only daughter stay out of harm's way from now on, if at all possible, thank you. And the others that knew gave him odd looks, but they were only seconds-long and disappeared as Martin met them head-on. Everybeast else simply accepted it, and let him go about his business with well-wishes. He had every right to return for his family, after all.

His departure was set for tomorrow. He was spending the day strolling through the woods with his trusted companions at his side, and none other. They were simply enjoying their time left together. Even though Martin knew (hoped and wished) they would see each other again, it was true that there was a sense of finality in the air. To ease it Martin was slightly more jovial than usual, dunking Pallum into the river – twice – and running away quickly before the splash ("Bully!" Pallum whined after him.). This reminded him of Gonff's pranks, and his smile grew wider. Yes, they would meet soon. Bella, too, and Abbess Germaine, Dinny, and Skipper. Everybeast in Mossflower - if he did this right. He wasn't sure what constituted as doing it wrong, exactly, but he was content with not finding out.

"You're really excited, aren't you," Rose observed. Martin let go of her paw and stopped to catch his breath as Pallum's curses chased after them. He smiled, looking at her.

"Yes."

There was another splash, and Grumm went down, falling prey to Pallum's trick of helping him out of the water. His wail of misery was quite loud. Rose sighed and leaned her forehead against Martin's shoulder.

"Excited enough to leave us."

Martin was startled, and turned to look at her. Her eyes were looking imploringly into his. He took both her paws and embraced Rose.

"That's not it," he whispered into her fur. "And you know I have to do this. I will come back. For you."

Her shoulders shook a bit, but she could not be crying. Martin hugged her close as the sounds of their friends laughing further up the river filled their ears, and their hearts beat louder. The fallen brown leaves danced into the stream, carried by the wind, and quickly floated away.

And so the day came. Martin knew it was the day like he knew his name, and what he had to do now.

YOU HAVE DONE WELL. WERE YOU HAPPY?

Yes, Martin thought distantly. But I will be happier.

YES. ONE DAY.

One day.

YOUR WORRIES ARE UNFOUNDED. GO FORTH.

Martin carried only a cloak and his sword in a thick cloth, leaving his room barren and clean, as he had found it. It was an hour before dawn, and most everybeast slept. He left the sleeping quarters silently, quickly making his way out.

Outside his door stood Rose, but he was not surprised. They said nothing to each other as they walked all the way over to the river, past woods and hills. There was only the pre-dawn song, crunching of leaves and grass, the grey light, and the dew moistening their footpaws. Eventually, breaking out of the woods, they reached the Waterlily - tethered and waiting. Marigold and Starwort were aboard, and waved to them as they approached, then disappeared inside. Martin and Rose stopped, and faced each other.

"Martin," Rose whispered. She grabbed his paw.

He wrapped his arms around her. She held on like she would never let go. Martin almost wished she didn't have to.

"Ahoy! Gettin' ready to go!" A voice cried from aboard, dragging them back to reality as the world slowly awakened. They slowly pulled away, still close.

"Be safe," Rose said softly, turning into his shoulder. "I'll wait for you. Forever, if I have to."

"I'm –" Martin started. He wanted to say he was sorry. There was a lump in his throat.

"It's okay." Rose said against his fur. "I'm not angry. I understand."

He held her tighter, trying to remember every part of her. Her fur, her dress, her melodic voice. "You won't wait forever. Rose?"

She broke away and looked up at him. "Yes?"

"When I come back. Will you marry me?"

Rose smiled like her heart was breaking or overflowing – Martin could not tell. "Yes."

Martin let go.

PART TEN

This was the moment. He knew because he remembered, not because the voice told him so. Polleekin was back inside, and his otter friends long set off. He was truly alone in the gales of dancing snow.

He took one step. And another. And another. The first few steps of a terribly long journey to Mossflower. Snow swirled past him, white took his vision, and his paws soon became chilled, but he did not relent. Martin the Warrior kept walking, literally retracing the past, until darkness overcame the land.

YOU SHALL RETURN NOW.

His figure faded into the storm.

EPILOGUE

"Rose! Rose!"

Laterose Voh of Noonvale looked up from the pastry crusts she was shaping to observe a young squirrelmaid running toward her. She sprang from the lit archway leading into the kitchens, almost tumbling straight for her. Rose smiled as she motioned for the maid to slow down as she came closer.

"Now, Aubrey, do be careful. There's lots of hot ovens here!"

The maid clung to Rose's apron as she gasped for breath. "I know, missa Rose. But Tril said there wasn't going to be a Summer's Feast tonight! It's not true, is it? Is it?"

Rose laughed and dusted off her paws, grabbing the plate of ready dough and moving them near the fruit fillings. "Of course there's going to be a feast, Aubrey. All of Noonvale would be angry if there weren't! Besides, would all of the valley be in such a tither if there weren't?"

The maid blushed and looked down. "Oh. Well, Tril was saying -"

"Tril's a trouble-loving mouse if I ever met one, and believe me, I certainly have. Now, since you're here, I could do with some help filling the scones and tartlets. Blueberries, raspberries, and maplecream - aren't they your favourite?"

Aubrey, nearly out of dibbunhood, eagerly nodded and allowed herself to be hoisted up to the counter. They found her an apron immediately, so she diligently got right to work. Rose allowed her another charming smile and began scooping the delicious mixture into the centre of the dough for easy folding.

"You really have met yelling savages, then, missa Rose? Tril said you fought off an eagle, all by yourself, but mister Pal always shushes him."

Rose couldn't help laughing merrily, shaking her head. "Oh, no, not quite, Pallum would be right. And they weren't savages, just some rather… excited squirrels. They're called the Gawtrybe. They helped at the Battle of Marshank, you know -"

"Oh, yes -aah!" Aubrey cried, spilling some of the berry concoction over, then hastily wiping it as best she could with a damp cloth nearby. Still her enthusiasm had not curbed. "I've heard all about Marshank, and Martin, and-"

"Yes, well. Good." Rose's smile grew strained as she interrupted, but she helped clean up the spill. "Actually, I think you're rather young for those stories. Ah, all clean. Let's get these done, then what do you say to picking some flowers for the feast? There's a lovely family of honeysuckle growing by the council lodge, they'd go great with buttercups and the white lilacs."

And before they knew it, night had fallen and the feast was well underway in the dining hall, which had been expanded the previous summer. Beasts of all sorts filled it to the brim, and the scent of good food and good humour filled the air. Flowers descended from the rafters and from the windowsills, and candles decorated the grown-up's tables. There were many celebrations in Noonvale, since there was no lack of reasons to celebrate. Either way, the lively festivities helped take Rose's mind off how bored she was. With Grumm and Pallum by her side, the three friends always managed to find something interesting to do together, even as the seasons passed and they grew older. But Pallum had a wife who was expecting, and Grumm was blushing and mumbling a lot in front of another certain molemaid lately. Rose would firmly bite her lip and try not to think about it, especially when suitors came to speak to her father, alone. Her father would always frown at her, and Aryah would shake her head to quiet him. Rose was a full adult by now, but still she waited. She had never once lost hope.

This night came with a new excitement in the form of a visitor. A land-faring traveling otter by the name of Malic had come upon the peaceful valley just that morning, and was full of news and stories for everybeast. Scars decorated his paws and face and a chunk of his left ear was missing, but he was more than jovial enough, as otters often were. As it was he was seated at the main table, with Rose and family. Everybeast close enough listened with rapt attention to the otter's tales.

"-Finest craft I've seen in many seasons, flat-bottomed too! An' it was big enough fer three o' these buildings, honest! You coulda fit everybeast here on it, I swear it!" Malic exclaimed, throwing his weathered paws out as far as they could go. Beasts oohed and aahed.

"That's a mighty big ship," Pallum chuckled, sensing a fib as he kept digging into the Deeper n'Ever pie he and Grumm were sharing. "Wouldn't you get lost in there?"

"Nah, matey. There were plenty 'o beasts on it, see. All polite as ye please, even offered ter bring me alla way here! I didn't wanna trouble 'em, though. Ship had a rather purty name, too, Honeysuckle, or sommat. Frankly I was busy staring at me own plate rather than the side of the boat! Shrews sure can cook up a feast!" Malic roared with laughter, and attacked his plate while on the topic of food.

Rose caught Grumm's eye and nibbled at her own pastry. "Goodness, where could a ship that big be heading?"

"Eh, dunno." Malic answered in between large bites. "Said summat about Redwall. They seemed purty interested when I told 'em about this place, though! Maybe they'll give youse a visit," he chuckled.

"Well, I don't think we have food for a ship three times this size," Aryah answered shrewdly. "Though I'm sure there'll be very interesting beasts aboard. They're all welcome here, aren't they, dear."

Urran nodded. "All goodbeasts are welcome in Noonvale."

"Ah, alright, I may have exaggerated a tad," Malic grinned. "But mark me words, that was one fine boat!"

"I've heard something about Redwall," said somebeast. Rose turned to see a serious looking hedgehog from the next table over frowning in thought. Her name might be Alice or Alicia, and she had been a slave at Marshank. "I've heard it's a beautiful building made of red stone, and when the sun hides behind it, it looks the place is on fire. Apparently there's many warriors there."

Another creature joined in with shining eyes. "Oh, in Mossflower – to the north? Yes, I've heard that. It was a wonderful county, then it was invaded by evil wildcats. There was a great battle, and somebeast took down the horrible rulers and built anew a place of peace. It's held safe by many mighty warriors. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Wonderful," Urran Voh agreed slowly, brows lowering. "Though I'm not sure how it can be a place of peace when it is inhabited by warriors."

There was a small silence, made heavy by Rose's scowl and a few other beast's discomfort. Though more open-minded after the Battle of Marshank, Urran Voh still never had accepted bloodshed. Malic, however, simply shrugged. "There are warriors that fight fer peace. Strange, innit? But 'tis true. Like this feller I met on that ship - never got 'is name, didn't speak much, but 'e was purty dedicated. There was a spot 'o trouble with some maraudin' rat band, and 'e took care of it –" he banged on the table with his paw, "-just like that. Didn't hurt 'em or anythin', but got 'is point across purty clear! Ho ho ho! Never met a more fearsome warrior that didn't even hafta lift a sword in me life!"

The noise returned to normal as beasts continued their merrymaking, and the sound of laughter and clinking of plates echoed through the dining hall. The beasts listening were fascinated, however. Aryah nodded and threw a warning glance at her husband. "Yes, that is rather impressive."

But Malic wasn't done. He leaned back on his seat and threw his paws about in the spirit of the tale, glad for the audience. "Ho, and wotta sword, too! Rattle me rudders, I never saw a mightier blade! Shiny as a mirror, wid the reddest stone on the hilt! Looked like death to any who crossed 'im, but 'e carried it real natural, like it was 'is second tail, or summat. Boy, those Redwall beasts sure are lucky ter 'ave him!"

Everybeast at the table slowed. Rose stared at Malic with wide eyes, clenching the edge of the table.

"Excuse me?" Pallum said, slowly. "A sword with a red pommel? Carried by who?"

Malic looked at the eager faces strangely. "Well, it was mouse. Purty strong build fer a mouse, but I dunno. Had this air about 'him, though, like ye really didn't want to get on 'is bad side, but ye would follow 'im through a battlefield, ya know? Er. Had grey eyes, too, I think. What?"

Breath was being collectively held by those in earshot who understood who was being described. Rose shot a look to her friends to see they were all equally absorbed. There was not an ear that was not strained within the whole hall. Finally, she ventured, "And you're sure you couldn't get his name, sir?"

"Aye, sorry, lass. 'E was too busy running after a mischievous squirrel babe to tell me. But mayhap he'll wander over here in that big ship 'o his, eh?"

Rose had to dip her head to hide the blinking away of tears that threatened to fall. Aryah answered quietly, "Aye. Perhaps he will." She and her husband shared a long look.

The rest of the feast was a blur. That night Rose slept with her head cradled in her paws, but a smile flickered over her lips. Maybe, she thought. Maybe. And the next day, Maybe turned into Yes.

Starwort and his crew had arrived for their seasonal visit, but along with much singing and gifts from the Rambling Rosehip Players, brought news of a big ship, still at sea, heading their direction. An otter had swum far enough to see the name – Honeysuckle.

It might be Martin.

Even the beasts born after the Battle of Marshank knew his name, and a few had even heard tales of him from afar, only now realizing who it was. Those that knew him personally, or at least directly, did not talk about anything else since the moment the news arrived. Starwort and Marigold themselves were surprised to learn who was rumored to be on that ship, though they smiled a little secretively when they heard. Rose would have questioned them had she been capable of suspicion. When she saw Grumm and Pallum, they grinned at each other and swung their paws as they walked through the valley, like dibbuns. They worked off their excitement by getting everything ready, even if they did not know for sure if the ship would dock close and actually visit Noonvale. They had a mighty suspicion that it would, though.

Not so many leagues away, the Honeysucklewas in a flurry of activity as well.

"Sounds like a fine place," Gonff chuckled. "But I'd really, really like to know why you're making us stop here instead of letting me rush back home to my lovely Collie."

Martin rolled his eye at the mousethief. "I'll tell you soon, O Pincher of Pies. And I'm sure Columbine will survive one or two days without you. Actually, I bet she's thankful for them."

"What! What are you implying! That she doesn't enjoy my presence? The nerve of you, scallywag!" Gonff dropped his reed flute and threw himself at Martin. The two laughed and wrestled about the deck of the Columbine, generally getting in everybeast's way and not sorry about it in the least.

"What a pair of snipes!" Vurg laughed as he rested his elbows over the edge of the ship. "You'd think ye were both dibbuns! An' here I thought the son of Luke was dignified and noble," he sniffed and shook his head tragically at the laughing, wriggling heap.

"M'noble," Martin muttered as he forced Gonff's paw behind his head. "Most of the time. Sometimes. Ouch!"

"Never! He's the silliest beast you'll ever meet!" Gonff gritted out, grinning while trying to shove Martin off him. He grabbed Martin's cheeks and forced them into a mad grin. "Silly silly silly!" he sang.

"That'd be you, Gonffo," Trimp rolled her eyes. "Really now. We're almost to shore, you know!"

Martin was off the floor in a flash, so fast Gonff was left struggling and blinking against thin air, leaning over the railing and peering out to land. "Ho! So we are!" He said, with a smile on his face, tail whisking about. "Why didn't you tell me sooner!"

Vurg laughed along with the rest of the crew. He said, "Cause you were too busy making Gonff eat dirt, that's why!" at the same moment that the otter lookout cried, "Ahoy! Git ready to debark, mateys!"

Gonff was up and wiping the dirt from his tunic with a grimace. "I was not, thankee kindly! I only eat the finest of meals, the most delicious crumbs! -Speaking of grub, are we there yet? I'm terribly hungry."

The ship rocked slightly as it came closer to shore and the anchor was released. "Breakfast was only an hour ago!" Trimp scolded, but she was very amused. It was hard to be in a foul mood when the sea breeze was blowing through your fur and your friends were only a paw's reach away. "And we can't assume they're going to feed us, not that we need it. We've got enough for the rest of the journey back to Redwall. Noonvale sounds great, but I can't wait to get back!"

Martin smiled back at her, but kept his attention on the stretch of land before them. They had been sailing almost parallel to it for a while, but now finally docked. He closed his eyes and thought of Noonvale. At last, at long last, he was going to see Rose again. True to his word, long ago now, he had never told a soul about Noonvale. That was going to be tricky to explain, but he'll leave it to later. Now that his final duty was complete, and his father's legend secured, Martin felt like it was high time to see his promised again. Since the moment he had fallen asleep on the journey from Polleekin's and awoken from his recuperative sleep in Mossflower, he had not stopped thinking of her. He hoped with everything he had that nothing had changed, and that she still waited for him. He hoped that the voice had not lied, and merged the two times together. After all, he could still remember both versions of the past. Would they erase one of them?

He would find out soon. He had returned to Noonvale.

The smaller boat was lowered and a crew assigned to stay on board. Martin went on land, of course, followed by Gonff, Dinny Foremole (who could not wait to be back on a surface that did not rock and slide every which way), Trimp, Skip, Vurg, Folgrim, and Beauclair. They'd switch off and return to ship in a few hour's time. Presently the land-group had arrived on shore, securing the boat by dragging it out of the tide's reach. Martin felt a surreal sense of - not quite coming home, because Redwall was the place he was meant to be, but of coming back to a beloved friend's place. And indeed he was, even if he could see the ruins of Marshank still standing many leagues away. (That was but an old memory, twice long gone now, even if some scars remained.) Even the sun above and sand underneath his paws felt warm and kind, as Martin thought; I may rest now. The long journey is over, and I shall see my love again.

They marched on, directed by Malic the otter's directions and Martin's memories. They made good progress, marching by trees and shrubs and stones that lifted Martin's heart as he passed them. He was coming closer and closer.

Back in Noonvale, everybeast waited for the arrival of their visitors. Treefoil, who was more sharp-eyed than any other, peered into the distance from her perch in a tree, calling down to the beasts gathered below.

"Yes, I see them. They've stopped a few leagues from here, definitely coming this way… no, Grumm, I can't tell who's who. Let's see, there's… two otters, um, a hedgehog… oh no, another hare… a mole, and three mice."

"Wot in the billyoh is that supposed to mean, eh, old gel? 'Oh no, another hare!' Hmph! I'll-" came Ballaw's grumbling below.

"Sssssh!" Pallum admonished. He looked back to up to Treefoil's spot, with Rose clinging to his arm with anticipation. "Can you tell if Martin is there?"

There was some rustling as Treefoil jumped higher. "Hm, well, I take it he's not the old one… but… what in the blazes?"

Beasts clamored suddenly. "What? What!" They cried at once.

"They're… fighting? No - running! Well, chasing, I think. Coming straight here!"

Rose squeezed her eyes tight. Not even the midday breeze distracted her. "Which ones are running?"

There was more rustling of leaves and branches. Treefoil's voice came more distantly now. "The two mice. They're getting closer… the first one looks rather strange, I daresay that's not Martin either… but goodness, at the rate they're running, they'll be here any moment!" And she promptly leapt down. Beasts rushed to question her.

"Come on, come on, we can't all stay here like dibbuns about to get a treat. If they're going to be here soon, let's greet them at Noonvale like civilized creatures, heh?" Brome said, slightly irritated at being shoved aside. He shepherded everybeast back into something like a dignified group, and they jogged back to the edge of Noonvale. Rose was smiling wildly and grasping Pallum and Grumm's paws. Urran and Aryah Voh joined them, as well as practically every other beast in the valley.

Not too far away, two mice were indeed running.

"Gonff, me pal," Martin yelled, tearing through the forest with the sand dumped on his hear flying off, "you have breathed your last!"

Gonff ran ahead, and wow that mouse was exceptionally fast for a beast his size. He leaped over shrubs and passed trees like the breeze, laughing at Martin all the while. "Ahahaha! Well s'yer fault for not paying attention, matey!"

Martin bellowed back, "Your wife is finding out about this!"

"Gah!" And Gonff ran faster.

Martin gasped with laughter, momentarily forgetting where he was or the companions they were quickly leaving behind. In his paws he clutched some fallen leaves ready to be shoved down Gonff's tunic in revenge for the sand attack. Martin was gaining, and Gonff saw this when he chanced a quick look behind him. Martin was almost upon Gonff when the larger jovial mouse broke through a clearing. Martin's fluid steps halted and turned awkward. He stumbled and fell forward.

"Er, hello," said a startled mouse to Gonff as he crashed through the trees, caught himself, and stumbled to a halt. Righting himself, Gonff looked with wide eyes at the gathering of creatures all looking back at him. He turned back, waiting, neither seeing nor hearing Martin, so he turned to the crowd with a large grin.

"Hello, mates. You kind folks wouldn't happen to have a hiding place from angry warriors, would you?"

Just then Martin crashed into Gonff and they both went flying, rolling over and over in a flurry of limbs.

"…Marthen?" asked a mole.

"Hold on," said one of the two as they wrestled. "I'm almost done… painting his face with… ow! Dirt!"

"Pffaw! You're the one who needs a prettier face!" The other tried to shove him away. "Stop, stop, get off!" He succeeded and stood up, looked ragged and dirty.

He was lucky that not everybeast had yet arrived. But he still met many stupefied faces as he stared back.

He smiled tremulously. "Hello. I'm Martin."

And suddenly he recognized every face in that crowd, all rushing forward to meet him. Brome, Rowanoak further back, Pallum, Urran and Aryah, Ballaw… the list went on. Martin was in a daze as creatures gathered around him, all talking and laughing and crying at once. But one face stood out.

The world seemed to stop, including breath and thought. She came closer and closer, eyes never leaving his.

"Martin," Rose said.

Martin threw open his arms. Rose rushed into them, and they were together once again.

END


End file.
